To Kiss A Cowgirl. Jeannie Watt
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he try harder to find a sub.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he counted out a stack of bills and slapped a rubber band around them. “Won’t happen again. But, hey—” he grinned as he looked up at her “—you made a million in tips.”
That she had.
“I’ll happily split them tomorrow,” she said.
“You keep them. And sorry I didn’t get to Maddox sooner.”
Maddox was a local bully/buffoon who loved to mess with the servers when he’d had a few too many. Jim usually nipped matters in the bud, but tonight he’d been too swamped to deal with the guy early on.
“Not a problem. I’m pretty adept at dodging him.”
“I’ll ban him if he doesn’t stop. And if Dee is still sick, I’ll get my sister to help.”
“Thanks, Jim. See you.”
Twenty minutes later she walked up to her door. Gus let out one mighty bark, no doubt waking Dani, then practically flattening her in his joy to see her again, home safe and sound. She crept through the house without turning on lights, but Dani was awake. She could hear her punching her pillow a few times to get into proper sleeping shape—a habit she’d had since they were little girls sharing a room.
“Sorry,” Jolie called softly.
“Not a problem,” Dani muttered as Jolie stepped into her own room and closed the door.
She dumped her tips on the dresser, shucked out of her clothes and tossed them into a heap—bar clothes never got worn more than once before seeing the washing machine—then slipped into her oversize Grizzlies T-shirt and climbed into bed. And there she lay awake. That last encounter with Dylan in the warehouse was still weighing heavily on her mind. Her ideas hadn’t been the greatest, but he could have brainstormed with her instead of subtly mocking her.
Or had it been subtle?
Whatever, he’d mocked her instead of trying to get on board with ideas that were only meant to help. She needed to come up with a way to bring some customers into the store—and not only to provide herself a more secure future there. She wanted to show him that she wasn’t the screw-up he seemed to think she was. And, damn it, she was going to do that.
A big, slurpy dog kiss awoke her a little after seven o’clock after she’d slept through her alarm and she groaned as she rolled over. Gus took that as an invitation to heave his big body up onto her bed. Since it was a twin bed, Jolie had little choice but to be engulfed with fur or get up.
Grudgingly she chose the latter. It was going to be a long morning at the feed store, but the one bright spot to having gotten next to no sleep was that she had finally come up with a way to bring in some business. An idea that should work.
No. An idea she was going to make work, because she wasn’t going to spend the time until Finn returned being treated like some mindless bimbo who needed constant management.
* * *
JOLIE WAS LATE.
She’d been early every other day this week, but today she was already fifteen minutes late. Dylan wondered if he was going to have to call when her truck roared into the parking lot, swung around the building and parked next to his.
She didn’t notice him standing at the edge of the warehouse bay as she scrambled out, slammed the truck door and then started jogging toward the side entrance. Dylan stayed where he was, debating. Did he want to be a dick about this? No. Things happened. People ran late.
It was just that he had a good idea she was late because she was working her other job and the anal part of him said that his business shouldn’t suffer because she needed another paycheck.
He turned and walked into the warehouse. They both knew why she was late and he assumed it wasn’t a habit. Finn might have liked her as a friend, but he wouldn’t put up with poor job performance.
He walked to the forklift and flipped the ignition. The machine chugged to life and kept running. Dylan climbed aboard and started shifting pallets, making room for a new shipment due later that morning.
A new shipment that he half wondered if they needed.
The store had had no customers so far this morning, with the exception of a woman who’d stopped by with a desperate look on her face, wondering if they had hoof glitter. She was on her way to a rodeo and needed it for her performance. Jolie had been in the back room, so Dylan had delivered the sad news that they didn’t carry hoof glitter.
“Well, do you have hoof black?” she’d asked.
Again he’d shaken his head. “We specialize more in feed and general tack.”
The lady had looked around at the grim interior, nodded, and said thanks just as Jolie came out of the backroom.
“We didn’t have what she needed?”
“Hoof black?”
“Would it kill us to have a few bottles?” she asked.
“Yes,” Dylan said bluntly.
“You’re in a mood.”
“Maybe I have my reasons.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “If my being late is one of the—”
“No.”
“Does your leg hurt? Because of the fall?”
“No.”
She closed her mouth at his second abrupt answer, then when he didn’t say anything else, turned and walked to her computer, her denim skirt accentuating the swing of her hips.
Wisely, given his dark mood, she gave him a wide berth during the few hours before closing, but as soon as he flipped the Open sign around to Closed, he turned to find her standing a few feet behind him, arms folded over her chest, as if she’d been waiting for the perfect moment to attack.
“I’ve been thinking about the hoof black lady...and the slow day.”
“And you want to know why I won’t add a lot of miscellaneous stock?” She raised a shoulder, which he took to be a yes. “Because stock that doesn’t move is money that could be earning interest in the bank.”
“I get what you’re saying. But, Dylan, adding a little more stock might help sales.”
“What exactly do you think we should add?”
She looked as if she’d been waiting for him to say those exact words. “I want to add a few fun things to the inventory.”
“Fun?”
“Well, maybe not as fun as hoof glitter, but things that people, women mostly, might buy on impulse.”
“Like, say...”
“Jewelry.”
He gave a scoffing laugh. “Jewelry.”
“Yes.” She tilted her chin sideways in that stubborn way he knew all too well. “And if we do it right, it won’t cost you anything.”
“How do we do it right?”
“By creating a Western-themed boutique—” she held up a hand as Dylan started to interrupt her “—stocked with commission items. No initial outlay. If it fails, we lose nothing.”
Dylan tried to come up with a reason this wasn’t a good idea...and drew a blank.
“And before you get all negative—”
“You’re pretty sure I’m going to do that?”
“History does tend to repeat itself.”
“I’m not negative... I’m serious. A realist.”
“Well, sometimes, Dylan, it feels good to believe that good things can